Character: Aedan Walker
(known as 'scaryman' among Atharnn orphans) Age: unknown (adult) Gender: Male Region: Atharnn (warlock) Political Views: Neutral Profession: Guard Group: Circle Watch (Burning Circle Guard) Appearance: Just shy of average height, dark hair and eyes. Usually seen in uniform complete with facial mask, so haircolour for example would not be generally known. Fit, leaning toward thin. Has deep, horizontal scars across the back of his right forearm. Personality: Seemingly cold, but has a soft spot for children. Backstory: Mostly unknown until he became a member of the Circle Watch, Antharnn’s police/peacekeepers, a few years before the quarantine started. He is now tasked with keeping the quarantine and is on occasion sent out to retrieve escaped mutants. He carries a sword, but his most prized possession is a rifle he was given after proving himself to be an expert marksman.For the last few months he has been bringing extra food into the quarantine zone to an orphanage, against regulations. Aedan's stories For the record, there is nothing wrong with his face. The orphans think so since they always see him wearing a breathing/gasmask. Told to Fabian the orphan boy when dropping of supplies It was in the Nightmare Swamp. It was a dark night, the moon could barely be seen. I was not much bigger than you are now. My family was travelling from Shae-Lann to Atharnn and my father decided to take a shortcut through the marshes. Mother agreed, because she loved adventure. We had made camp just inside of the treeline. Because you don’t want to travel in the dark, father said, and the trees would give us some shelter. Beyond the fire the marshes began, green-tinted water and soggy plants were all around, barely visible in the darkness. It began not long after I had been told to go to sleep, but excited as I was about the adventures we would have the following day I was still awake. Mother said she needed to find the baby. ‘What baby?’ father asked, but mother had already gone. Brave as he was my father decided to go after her, leaving me by the fire. I do not know how much time had passed, but the fire had died down to embers. That was when I first heard it. A low moaning /right behind me/. I turned, ever so slowly, to look over my shoulder. What met my eyes was too horrific for words, it was the dead, moving though flesh fell off their bodies. I curled tightly under my blanket, hoping they would go away. But they just came closer, their claw like fingers grabbing at me. In a desperate attempt to escape I threw myself away from them, only my feet caught in the blanket and I fell face-first into the fire! I knew nothing more until the day after, when a kindly old woman lifted me onto her cart. As retold by Sirrna the orphan girl It was on the plains to the west, a clear and cold day, and Scaryman was running for his life from a great an noble Knight from Zestia's court, because he had stolen a princess! But Scaryman couldn't run anymore, so he took his own face to a cheese grater, and the Knight didn't recognise him anymore! (Quote from the actual story : "I knew the White Knight was coming, he knew what I looked like. He was going to find me and bring me to justice. So I found a cheese grater, and I took it to my face.") Told to Kallen and Sirrna while at camp after the sheep attack I was riding to the north, making quick pace, to meet up with my army. Our nefarious plan was to overthrow the Lord who ruled the area. The hills around the road were a good place for an ambush, though, and the Lord had learned from a greedy young soldier that I would travel that way. My black war horse reared when the first arrow came flying, and luckily none of us were hit. Looking to the west, where the arrow had come from, I was blinded by the setting sun. A bloodcurling roar chilled my heart and I turned in fear. There he stood, the massive Lord of the hills - taller than me even though I was on my horse. His polished armour shone in the sun, and in his hand was a morning star, each spike a foot long. I contemplated fleeing, but then my horse took an arrow to the lung and went down screaming. I threw myself off his back, quickly to not be crushed by the massive weight. As soon as I found my feet the Lord charged and swung his weapon. I ducked, rasing an arm to protect my head. I was lucky, and the weapon merely grazed and sliced my flesh, instead of crushing my arm to dust and splatter. Even more fortunate I was to be left handed, so I could still draw my sword. We fought for a long time, his men standing watch around us. They all wished to see my humiliating defeat, but when my sword went right through the Lord's thick neck, they all turned tail and ran. I tore a piece off my cloak and used it to tie my arm, by the time I reached my friends I was already delirious from lack of blood. We had no healer, but one of the men knew how to work a needle and thread. From that day on, we had full control of the hills. (The ‘lord’ was actually a bandit leader, killing and robbing travelers on the ‘Lake Road’ going from south to north through the burning circle. The bandit’s body was later publically hanged in the urban area.) Told to Kallen when she asked for a true story A small family, really only a man and a wife, travelled through Chaeron toward the House of Sorrows. With them they brought the blanket of a stillborn babe. Every night they set camp, and every night the man tried to talk to his wife. Every night she turned away. We will be all right, he would say. We still have each other. She would look at him with dark, broken eyes and nod. Their journey was long, though mostly uneventful. A curious yeti stole their supplies. That night they had to huddle together in the cold, but no closeness would melt the ice in the eyes of she who would have been a mother. At last they reached the temple grounds. Please, my love, the woman said. Let me go inside first, I need a moment alone. Saddened, tired, and not at all religious the man agreed. He stood outside, the soft, falling snow melting on his hands and face. Inside his wife walked slowly toward the clear, deep pool. She clutched the blanket to her chest. She knelt by the water, and asked for relief. Kissed the blanket and then she rose to her feet. She took a step forward and into the pool, her tears mingling with the sacred waters. When the blind priest pulled her out she was as dead as the child she never held.